


Doubts

by sheiruki



Category: Tyranny (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Introspection, Pre-Canon, Questioning Beliefs, Self-Doubt, Seriously this is set long before the events of Tyranny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:41:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24328966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheiruki/pseuds/sheiruki
Summary: Somewhere in the distant past, a fledgeling archon struggles with the demands of the overlord.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	Doubts

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short fic I wrote while waiting for an appointment. I greatly enjoy musing about Tunon his struggle between justice and the law.

Midnight had long passed. Outside, the world lay fast asleep. Inside, one man lay wide awake and doubted his decision to condemn a young man to death for using the name of the overlord in vain.

Was that a just punishment? Ending a life over something as trivial as a name? 

Tunon shook his head.

A cool breeze blew in through the window, so the fledgeling archon got up, closed the shutters, and went over to the fireplace. He knelt down, formed a suitable pyre and lit it up in the hopes of driving the cold away.

 _The overlord has her reasons_ , he consoled himself. _Surely, there is something I am not seeing._

His words did little to assuage him; his doubts remained, gnawed on him like a starving street mutt on a piece of bone.

He sat down on his bed and watched the table at its side. Two masks, one made of wood, the other of pristine polished metal, had been laid out there with utmost care and reverence. The symbols of his station. More than his robes or even his gavel, the masks represented his devotion to justice and neutrality.

 _She has Her reasons_ , in his mind, he repeated the words over and over, until consolidation became prayer.

Tunon could almost laugh at the irony. The masks were what he was not. Cold, dispassionate and as unyielding as the materials they were made of, far from the doubt-ridden man wearing them. The wooden mask was his own creation, his own flawed attempt to leave behind all his personal biases and inhibitions. His first attempt at reaching true neutrality. 

The mask of metal was Kyros' mandate, more befitting of his position as Her right hand and immovable upholder of Her law. This was the face he wore in court, the last thing Her enemies would see should they defy Her justice. There was another difference between the two; something not seen at first glance, but noticeable to the keen observer: the brows of the metal mask were slightly furrowed. "To represent the burden of judgement," Tunon remembered Her words well. He frowned, mimicking the mask's expression. Never before had that burden weighed so heavy on him. 

For a long time he sat there, on the edge of his bed with his blanket draped over his shoulders and his mind astray, until at last the first rays of sunshine rose over the horizon, slipped through the gaps in the shutters and signalled the break of a new day filled with new cases and new sentences. It was time to leave the seclusion of his chambers, his refuge - the only place where he was free to be more than a mask impersonating Justice. 

He got up began dressing himself in his coarse, pitch black robes and the heavy gold adornments meant to complement his station. After all that was done, his face and his emotions vanished behind the cold, unforgiving metal mask. 

Finally, he took his gavel, the mighty Rule of Law, off its pedestal. The artifact was warm to the touch; brimming with magic which filled Tunon with a new sense of pride and confidence in his station. He was the Archon of Justice, the unwavering enforcer of Kyros' law; what good was he if I could not reach a verdict without doubting it afterwards? 

With firm steps, Tunon made for the door, ready to lock his doubts in that small room for yet another day. However, as soon as his fingers touched the handle, he hesitated and turned around. The other mask was still lying on the table, looking up at him with its empty wooden eyes.

With one swift motion, Tunon tossed it into the fire.


End file.
